


Spring Thaw

by akane42me



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akane42me/pseuds/akane42me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Man’s black and white coverings were of no interest to Crow, but red, that was another matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Written in April 2011 for the MFUWSS Easter Egg challenge.

Spring Thaw  
   
 _‘The sun was warm but the wind was chill  
_ _You know how it is with an April Day’_  
\- Robert Frost  
  


It was the kind of spring morning that would tempt a Boy from the village downstream into taking the path up to the creek instead of the path which stopped at the schoolhouse door.Crow flew on black glider wings with purpose.It knew the place a Boy would choose:a boulder, cracked from the mountain, loosened by time, and rolled down the big rut carved by eons of snowmelt, and come to rest in the creek bed.A sand bar formed as the water parted around the boulder, so the water slowed here, and was shallow, and the ice was slick and shiny in the early April sun.The creek widened around the boulder, then straightened and flowed down the snowy little valley carved between the hills below the mountains.   
  
The sun was strong enough to expose the sandbar, to warm the boulder. What Boy could resist the temptation to step out upon the slick ice, to test it, to see if he could reach the boulder without plunging a foot into the freezing black water?A Boy would want to rest his back against the warm boulder. A Boy would pull his lunch from his pocket, and drop his orange peels and bread crust on the sandbar.  
  
Crow settled on the topmost branch of the tallest leafless tree on the ridge above the creek.The water in the creek was iced over for the most part, but here and there it flashed, black and shiny.Crow kept an eye on the shiny patches, watching for the shiny flash of Fish.Crow watched and waited.Boy or Fish - either would do.  
  
But no:here came a Man from the opposite direction, from upstream, from the place at the mountain’s feet, where the grey building filled with Men straddled the water pouring down from the mountain.The Man wobbled and tottered through the thin weary pines along the stiff backbone of the ridge. Crow watched the Man plod through the patches of snow remaining up on the ridge, a black stick with black hair like the night, in motion among the black wintered trees. Man. Not Boy. Not Fish.  
  
The Man fell.Crow cawed at the Man, who stood up, looked around, and took a few more choppy steps.  
  
A wall of frigid air blasted down from the mountain.The Man halted at the rut cutting down from the ridge, bent against the wind.The black wings of his coat flapped wildly, revealing a growing red blossom on the front of his white shirt.A Man’s black and white coverings were of no interest to Crow, but red, that was another matter, and Crow cawed in anticipation, its harsh cries piercing the wind.  
  
The Man glanced up at the noise and muttered. He stretched out an arm, and something shiny caught Crow’s eye. The Man shook his arm and peered at the shiny thing.Crow flew closer, drawn by desire for the shiny thing and cawed at it. The Man shouted back.The Man looked around a last time, then dropped into the rut and following it down, disappeared into the thicket of brush and bushes along the bank of the creek.Crow lost sight of the Man.Cawing in anger, it followed the Man.  
  
\----  
  
Napoleon trudged through the pines up on the ridge and spotted the creek, which led to the village.He was tiring rapidly, and he stumbled.He was supposed to cross the creek, cut across the opposite ridge and get to the flat place they’d picked out yesterday.He paused, catching his breath, which steamed in the cold air.He reached inside his coat and felt the warm stickiness there.No communicator.No gun.He forced his eyes away from the growing red spot on the front of his white shirt and looked up at the sky, squinting against the sun. His legs buckled, and he sank onto his knees in a patch of snow.  
  
“Caught!Caught!”A crow up in the trees seemed to mock his faltering flight from the mountain lab.   
  
Very clever, Napoleon thought humorlessly.Sorry, no, mister crow, I’m not caught. I escaped.  
  
He wondered how far behind his pursuers were. He drew an arm across his face, wiping sweat from his brow.The sun was warm but the air was chilly.Spring was deceptive that way.He took in the emptiness of his surroundings, all silent but for the crow.  
  
Hell of a nice place, but all things considered, I’d rather be - not alone.  
  
He jammed his arms into the snow and heaved himself up. Below, a patch of open water flashed and gurgled in the creek.He moved on. And stumbled again, but managed to stay on his feet, and saw that he was at the lip of a gully which pointed straight down to a big boulder sitting in the middle of the creek.  
  
Without warning, a fierce wind swooped down on cold, grey wings and threw the flaps of his coat open.The wet blood on his shirt chilled and stuck to his chest.He drew his coat around him, huddling against the cold.A moment ago, he was sweating, and now he shivered.In spite of the bracing air, he felt faint.  
  
“Caught!Caught!”The crow scolded.  
  
"Be quiet, you,” he said, looking for the crow.So I screwed up, a little.But I’m not caught.He checked his watch. His vision blurred, and then cleared.A flash of black: the crow flying overhead.  
  
“Caught!Caught!Caught!”  
  
Crows: harbingers of death.Napoleon was not superstitious, but impulsively, he twisted around and shouted, “Shut the hell up!” Chagrined by his outburst, he scanned the ridge and the creek.“No,” he said to the thing that followed the crow.“I’m not caught.” He picked his way slowly, too slowly, down to the bushes along the bank of the creek. He tried to move faster.  
  
Behind him, the crow screamed and flew down to the creek.  
  
\---  
  
The Man emerged from the bushes on the bank of the creek.Crow watched the Man step onto the ice and fall, landing half in the water and half on the sandbar.The Man spread his arms like wings, and there it was, the shiny thing, exposed.The Man lay still, so still that Crow flew at the shiny thing and pecked at it.The Man startled, striking at him, and Crow soared away into the trees, scolding the Man for not being dead.Crow waited.Eventually, the Man sat against the boulder and was still again, and Crow tried again.This time, the Man did not move. Crow went for the shiny thing, but now he found he did not want it as much as he wanted what lay beneath the Man’s bloodied red shirt.Crow hopped onto the Man’s chest.  
  
\---  
  
Cross the creek, Napoleon ordered himself, and set his feet tentatively on the shiny, wet ice, sliding his shoes, going for the boulder.The ice cracked, and his feet plunged into the water.He fell, flapping his arms in a last-ditch attempt to stay upright.He blacked out, and woke to something hard poking at his wrist.He opened his eyes to the sight of the crow pecking at his wristwatch.Flailing his arms at the crow, he roared up from the water onto his knees, scaring the bird off.After crawling through the freezing muck onto the high center of the sandbar, he rested his back against the warm boulder.  
  
“Caught!Caught!”  
  
Christ, he was tired of that fucking crow.He was tired, period.His chest throbbed.Napoleon closed his eyes.The crow cawed again.Probably calling his pals.Screw you, buddy, he thought.  
  
He wondered where his own pal was right about now. And he wondered when he had flopped over onto the sand. He closed his eyes, and the crow was back on him, first pecking at his watch, and then at his shirt.Napoleon thought about it, but it was too much effort to sit up, or lift a hand, or make a sound.   
  
\---  
  
Crow tore at the red part of the Man.But a sudden motion signaled danger, and the crow froze, cocking its head.Here came another Man, this one with yellow hair like the sun, screaming.  
  
\---  
  
Illya held the transistor-radio sized device in one hand in front of him, following its steadily increasing beeping signal.He pointed his pistol at the dark spots hidden behind the trees up on the ridges, and ran through the snow and mud along the bank of the creek until the beeping became a high-pitched whine.Illya stopped.The dank earth of the creek bank smelled pungent, alive.All around, spring is busily bringing the earth back to life, he thought.And that had better include you, Napoleon.  
  
His partner was laying face-up next to a massive boulder in a sandy high spot in the middle of the creek. Something large and black was hunched on Napoleon’s chest – his coat, Illya thought, and then it moved.Illya bellowed at the black thing and shouted Napoleon’s name, and the black thing, a crow, flew up into a tree.Illya hurtled down the creek’s bank and skidded across the ice.He thrashed through the water and threw himself at his partner.He pressed his fingers across Napoleon’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He shifted his fingers and tried again.He pocketed his pistol.He looked up at the mountains, and sighed, and stood.He straddled Napoleon’s dead weight and seizing him by the armpits, hauled him out of the creek and laid him to rest on a patch of yellowed grass where the snow had disappeared.   
  
Illya lowered himself next to Napoleon and gently pushed the hair from his friend’s forehead, smoothing it into place, and carefully brushed the sand from Napoleon’s cold cheeks.Next, he pulled the red shirt open, looked at the angry red place, and closed the shirt.Finally, he pulled the wrist watch from Napoleon’s limp arm.He looked up at the trees, distracted by the crow’s incessant cries.He considered taking his pistol back out and shooting it, but he turned his attention back to the watch, rubbing it against his pants, clearing it of dirt.   
  
“Well,” he pronounced flatly, “the homing device worked.Dr. Simpson will be pleased to know it survived the freezing conditions.As have you.”He gave Napoleon’s shoulder a shake.“Come on.Wake up.”  
  
The crow cawed harshly.

Illya glanced up at the tree, and then back to Napoleon, who was mumbling.

He leaned closer.“What did you say?”  
  
“It says we’re caught. And we’re going to die.”  
  
“What are you talking about, Napoleon? _Who said what?_ ”But Napoleon had closed his eyes and did not respond.Illya frowned and felt his partner’s forehead.It was clammy and hot, despite the frigid snow-melt of the creek. The chest wound was bad.Illya scanned the skies. _Where the hell were they?_  
  
He saw the crow in a tree, and considered Napoleon’s warning.The crow stared back.  
  
From the ridge upriver came the sound of branches crashing and, seconds later, movement, a man running among the trees.Then silence.Illya pulled sharply at Napoleon’s inert form.“Come on.We have to move.”Something whined through the air and flicked the water.  
  
 _Thropping…_  
  
He pulled his gun.Grabbing Napoleon by the collar, he dragged his partner back down the creek bank.Three fast shots erupted from the trees.  
  
The crow screeched and flew off.   
  
 _Beating the air far down the valley…_  
  
Illya popped up and fired blindly into the trees.In reply, a path of dirt explosions chopped across the top of the bank two feet in front of him, and he hastily ducked back down.Save for the protection of the creek, he had scant protection against the second shooter’s automatic weapon.Maybe the crow was right.He searched the sky again and checked his pockets for more ammunition.  
  
 _Louder, roaring closer…_  
  
From the air above, machine-gunfire stuttered behind Illya, slashing at the trees on the hillside, cutting the enemy shooters down in the barrage.The helicopter hovered low, its UNCLE insignia glinting in the sun.A moment later, the craft landed, settling into the snowy bank of the creek. Two men jumped out and ran to help carry Napoleon back to the helicopter.Illya followed.The rotor blade roared, and the helicopter lifted into the air, and flew off over the ridge.  
  
\----  
  
Crow watched the white thing fly away.Soon the noise faded.Crow sat in the tree, silent, watching the water of the creek flash in the early April sun. Tomorrow the sun would rise again, and bring Fish, or a Boy, or maybe, another Man.  
  
  
The End 

  



End file.
